better from me; something handsome, I don't doubt, and perhaps a living when he comes home, who knows! Well, I am sure I hope he may, with all my heart; for he will preach beautiful sermons, just like his father-true orthodox gospel; but I wish he were not going after all, or not for so long-two, perhaps three years. I'm sure you'll miss him, Julia, so kind as he has been to you, just like a brother." 66 I Why should I miss him, grandmamma? To be sure I shall not be quite so industrious in one way, but then you will benefit by my idleness. should not wonder if I finish sprigging your book muslin apron now, so that I am really very glad he is going." "Well, now, only think how odd that is! But I am greatly obliged to you, my dear, for mentioning my sprigged muslin apron. I'm sure you will do the oak-leaf border most sweetly; but to think, I say, that you should say you are glad he is going away; now, really, if it were not my Julia, I should call that downright ungrateful.” “I hope you will never have cause to think me ungrateful, grandmamma.” 66 "I think you so! O, my precious, what a thought! when you are the staff of my age-the gold-headed staff, as Dr Simpson so prettily said, and when-if it were not for those books—” "Well, but I really will finish sprigging the apron directly; and you know I have quite turned off the clas-the Latin books, I mean-your antipathies, as you used to call them.” “Ah, but then I saw some fresh ones come in to-day, and--oh, dear me! I just peeped into one, and it was worse and worse-the most unknown tongue I ever saw; I could not even make out the letters." "It was German you looked at," said Julia, smiling; "you ought to like it better, for I can find you many descriptions of household affairs even in the poets." "Very sensible people indeed; but you know, love, I have said you shall do just as you like now; turn the house out of the windows if you please, so that you will not marry-not whilst I live; you know, my dear, your mother married, and I have never been able to abide marriage since." "Take comfort from the past, as well as pain, grandmamma, you know I have not hitherto shown any disposition to marry and leave you." "No, my precious, and certainly your way of saying, No, thank you,' to Dr Simpson's eldest son, and to "I see our friends are in the garden," interrupted Julia. "What a beautiful evening, and how well that dear old hawthorn looks! I will step forward and open the gate, grandmamma.” We pass over, as unimportant, the entrance, greetings, and general remarks which ensued; but, as in the course of half an hour the party took up the positions mentioned in the last chapter, we will take the liberty of listening to the conversation under the hawthorn-tree. "Julia, I should like to know how you go on; will you add a postscript to my mother's letters sometimes, or send a message?" "Certainly, if you wish it." "And be sure tell me, Julia, if there is any thing I can do, or purchase for you, in any of the Italian cities; he who cannot be a fascinating companion must be content to be a useful friend." "I wish you would not use that style of expression, it is so humble." "If it were analysed, I fear it would be found to embody more pride than humility, inasmuch as I value utility much more highly than you do." "How can you be so metaphysical, when you are going to leave us all to-morrow, and for so long?" "Here is a proof that I am metaphysical," replied Cecil, breaking off a branch of the overhanging hawthorn, "this will travel with me in my new red morocco pocket-book (Mrs Carhampton had presented her souvenir), in a few days it will be withered, but at the end of years it will be to my heart what now it is to my eye, a blooming memorial of home, and home friends." "I wish I loved home, and had the strong domestic feelings that you have. I wish I had no future no dreams, no romance, or rather, I wish romance were reality." "My dear, charming friend, reality continually possesses romance; affection is a reality, home is a reality, nature is a reality-what need of dreams to fashion brighter?" "Your mind is dreadfully healthy, Cecil." "And till latterly, yours was just as delightfully so; Julia, you have changed your style of study, and it has done you no good: do throw those intense, dreamy, passionate Germans away." "Treason!" replied Julia, "they have opened to me a new world, unlocked a new sphere of existence. 'They are like a city of the past, With its gorgeous halls into fragments cast, Yes, they are like the dim sea caves, A realm of treasures, a realm of graves; And the shapes through their mysteries that come and go, “Beautiful, but, nevertheless, not convincing. I remain of the same opinion still, that your having wholly, and all at once, plunged your spirit into an intellectual fountain of emotion, of which Goëthe and Schiller, Petrarch and de Staël, and Shelley, and a dozen others, are the presiding spirits, will be productive of more loss than gain." "Treason reiterated!" exclaimed Julia. "My soul is an enchanted boat, Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float Beside the helm conducting it, Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing. * And we sail on, away, afar, Without a cloud, without a star, But by the instinct of sweet music driven.' * Mrs. Hemans's Land of Dreams. |